


This Doesn't Deserve A Title

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff I guess, I dont really know, M/M, Maybe angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1453981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>blame my moirial for becoming a huge communist and urging me to bring this worthless pile of crap into existence. I don't even want to read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Doesn't Deserve A Title

**Author's Note:**

> this is all drew's fault. blame him.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you fucking loathe John Egbert.  
You can’t even pin it on one thing. Everything he does and says just makes you want to take your sickle to his chitinuous windhole. He’s just… obnoxious, the way he grins at you, the way he’ll pull the most repulsive pranks and then laugh as if you’re supposed to find it funny. His laugh makes you wish he’d just smash your think pan in with that dumb hammer of his and end it all. It’s so… happy the way he laughs, and you can’t stand it. Back on Alternia, he would have been culled, and everyone would have been a hell of a lot better off without him.  
You could almost stand the humans, except for him. Rose is decent in her own way, snarky but composed. Dave is an asshole and an insufferable prick, but he’s your friend. And Jade… well, you’re surprised she even talks to you after the way your past self ragged on to her. You can’t stay angry at Jade, and she’s so nice to you.  
But John Egbert is going to be the fucking death of you.  
You run into him lat one night on the meteor when you can’t sleep. You do this a lot, just wander the corridors of the meteor. It’s better than trying to chase away nightmares. He walks straight into you, but backs away a step (but he’s still standing too close, he always stands too close to you) and laughs. “Oh, hi Karkat. Sorry, didn’t see you there. It’s so dark in these corridors, huh?” His voice is cheerful as usual, but it can’t disguise the exhaustion. “What are you doing up this late?” His dumb buckteeth make you want to stick a claw down your protein chute and puke up whatever sorry excuse for food you alchemized earlier.  
Humans can’t see in the dark, you keep forgetting, so you try to forgive his clumsiness and take a step away. “Trolls are nocturnal, idiot,” you mutter.  
“Haha, I couldn’t even tell! It’s always so dark here.”  
John is about an inch taller than you, and his blue eyes seem to sparkle behind his glasses. You mutter something about how you should be going now, but he stops you.  
“Karkat, are you alright? You always look so sad.”  
This is quite possibly the dumbest question you have ever heard, and only a complete wriggler with his head up his ass would even think to ask it. Are you sad? Of course I’m sad, you think bitterly, I was an outcast in my own fucking society before the entire thing literally burned to the ground, I failed at leading my friends, gave a universe cancer, and watched several of my peers murder each other brutally. A wash of self hatred overcomes you, and you scowl, trying to hide the tears that have sprung into your eyes. Damn it.  
You want probably more than anything at this point for John to go away and leave you the fuck alone, for him to go watch some shitty Earth movie with his head up his nook.  
But instead, he reaches out a hand and puts it on your shoulder. And even though you keep telling yourself you want to be alone with all your miseries like the useless fuckup you are, you let him.  
“Hey, Karkat, what’s wrong?”  
“Nothing,” you grumble. “Everything.” You can’t look him in the eye, so like the stupid nooksniffer you are, you bury your face in his shoulder, and he puts his arms around you, shooshing you softly. It’s fucking embarrassing, but it feels… it feels right, and you don’t want to let go.  
Idiot.  
John is awkwardly patting your hair now while you cling to him, shaking a little. You didn’t know how badly you wanted this- needed this- and internally, you’re berating yourself for being so… so vulnerable, so emotional, but, damn it, you don’t want to stop.  
You can’t remember the last time someone held you this close, someone who smelled like baking cake and rubbed at the base of your horns. You’re purring now, loudly, and your face is all red from the humiliation of it all. John Egbert is hugging you too close and stroking you and like the scumbag that you are. You’ve sunk to Eridan’s level now, you tell yourself morosely while he pats your shoulder awkwardly and more tears sting your eyes and stain his shirt. You don’t want to cry into this dumbass’s shoulder, but you are.  
But in a moment, it’s over, and a wave of panic overwhelms you: pure flustered confusion and rage, and you break away from his embrace, sprinting as fast as your legs can carry you for the safety of your block where you can cry and sort out your feelings in peace.  
Of course John follows you. Of course he does, and what’s more, he can easily outpace you, so the two of you converge at the door to your block.  
The genuine look of concern on his face nearly kills you (and perhaps it’d be better if it did). You can’t meet his eyes.  
“Karkat, are you alright?” You can feel those blue eyes drilling into you with their stare, damn it.  
“I… you know what? Fuck it. Come inside.”  
You fumble with the keypad for a minute before unlocking the door, and your fingers tremble a little. He follows you inside while you try to straighten up your room a bit. This proves impossible, so you just sit down on a pile of scalemates, trying to choke down the last of whatever tears were left inside you.  
You just want to sit alone in misery and wallow in self hate, but here is John Egbert, obnoxious and too loud.  
He sits too close to you on the pile and you don’t try to back away.  
He puts his arm around your shoulders, looking at you with what you could only describe as concern. You begin to wonder why you pushed him away earlier. Of course there are a thousand reasons, and they all spring to mind at once, number one on the list being because you hate him.  
But here you are again, awkwardly positioned in this fucking pile, while he pats your hair and rubs your horns and you let yourself crawl into his arms like the pathetic lump of shit you are.


End file.
